Sometimes All You Can Do Is Laugh - Before You Cry

Thought I would log on quickly this morning and get my annual benefits enrollment done.

Quick, painless, easy.

Ha.

Anybody care to guess how hard I laughed at that one?

Until I almost burst into tears at my desk.

Fucking CD1.

Here's the thing. I've been planning a pregnancy in the upcoming benefits year for two years now. Year one, I started an FSA. And lost a lot of money. Year two, I put less money in said FSA. It is not October, and I will be losing a lot of money.

Can somebody tell me what the fuck a planned pregnancy is because I don't even know anymore. I've been trying to plan a pregnancy for two damned years and I haven't succeeded. If there ever is a pregnancy, I can guarantee you I will be more than surprised by it.

So, yeah, I laughed. Briefly.

Now, I would just like to go home and cry.

Oh, excpet, since my period started while I was at work, I actually have to go home and tell The Hubby that I'm not pregnant, which I'm pretty sure is going to crush him this time.

Fun time.

Fucking Monday.



Out of The Hubby's Mouth: Do you have any pregnancy tests?

"Hey, do you have any pregnancy tests here?"

I was getting ready to head out the door to do the grocery shopping. I'm not sure if he expected me to pick some up after I told him I did not. But I certainly has no intention of doing so.

And, no, I did not and do not have any HPTs in the house.

In many ways, I love that he asks because I know it shows how much he wants it. But it kills me at the same time because I hate to see how disappointed and angry and upset he gets when I have to tell him I'm not.

I wish he knew what I do. I wish he could see and understand what two days of temp drops mean. I wish it erased for him, like it does for me, that hope.

And I hate to say that because I appreciate his positivity.

I love to hear him say God told him I am pregnant.

I love that he notices the fact that my skin is not breaking out right now. At all. And that he thinks that has to mean I'm pregnant.

But I refuse to let those things override the science I know to be true.

How many times have I allowed my body to play tricks on me? Too many.

So, yes, I've had some different sort of things going on with "the girls." And there was that one instance of spotting Friday morning. Oh, and the strange cramping. Not to mention that little appearance of EWCM this morning. Or the complete lack of all things PMS.

Two years ago, a year ago, hell six months ago, I might have let those things linger in my mind.

Now, falling temp patterns at 13 and 14 DPO, just lead me to the conclusion that this is one of my weird cycles and my period will be waiting for me tomorrow morning.

So, no, babe, no pregnancy tests for this house.

And I'm sorry to crush your hopes one more time.

I Just Broke Down

In the card aisle at Target buying a baby shower card for The Hubby's former boss.

That was a true first.

Didn't think I had any more of those in me.

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Safe Place

Throughout this journey, my one reprieve, my one safe place, has been the world of sports.

Maybe that's odd, but I have a deep love of and passion for sports, particularly, "my" teams.

So, through all of this turmoil and hormonal crazes, games and sports talk has been the place where conceiving and IF, and pregnancy and babies don't exist.

In sports, I can scream my lungs out at my quarterback for throwing late game interceptions that cost us the game (would anybody like to guess  my NFL team affiliation?). I can literally cry when the basketball star I love so much leads his team - finally - to their first ever NBA championship win and concoct a way for work to let me have some paid hours to go watch a victory parade where I got to scream some more in joy. And I can sit on the couch during the 9th inning of the World Series while my team's closer damn near gives me a heart attack with every pitch.

(Have you guessed where I live yet?)

I will fully admit that I take out some of my pent-up frustrations on my sports teams. I don't mean to and I've always been this passionate, but this last year, I think I've been worse.

I can, and nearly do, listen to sports radio or TV all day long. ESPN is on one of the TVs in our house at all times. The radio in my car lives on local ESPN radio. I follow lots of local and national sports guys on Twitter - and quote them. I love stats, I love player and sideline and clubhouse stories.

And I know that in many ways, my zeal has to do with sports being the place where I don't have to think about my BBT or cycle day or the emptiness that surronds so much of my life.

Every once in awhile, though, the two "worlds" still cross. Cameras get the cute baby in baseball team garb and The Hubby says "we need a kid!" Or you see a little clip of a player on the field with his kid throwing the ball around before the game.

But, yesterday, the two worlds collided and I couldn't escape into my safe place.

And I hate what I'm about to say.

I live in the Dallas area. My team is the Cowboys. Radio and TV and newpapers and Twitter are Cowboys overload. Tony Romo is our quarterback.

On my drive home from work yesterday afternoon, I got to hear the gal who does SportsCenter announce that Tony Romo and his wife are expecting their first child at least 3 times. This was again discussed a couple of times during the show I was listening to.

The couple got married at the end of May.

Here's the thing, I happen to love Tony Romo despite his flaws and, really, I'm happy for him and his wife. He's a good guy, she seems like a good person, yay for them.

And I am painfully aware that nobody else's fertility has any bearing on my own.

But it hurt like hell to hear. Over and over again.

ESPN, my sports world, is the one place where I don't want to feel that way. The one place where I can escape all my feelings.

And yesterday, and today, that was taken away.

So Different

I didn't think I would get to the point where things would feel different or worse than they already did after hitting the year mark.

At the year mark, I unofficially qualified myself as infertile. After all the testing, even after no diagnosis, I began to officially see  myself as struggling with IF. It was a hard transition to make because I didn't want it to be true. Since then, though, I've slowly come to accept it and live with it.

But, as I hit the two-year mark, I see that this journey can still surprise me - not in a good way.

Babies and pregnancies are hard. Literally, the only babies I can really tolerate hearing about or seeing are those of a couple of close friends and my nieces/nephew. And at times, even that overwhelmes me. All other babies, and especially pregnant women, make me sad.

The thought of a baby shower gives me major anxiety. Major.

I no longer hold out hope. It's not that I'm a Debbie Downer, woe is me, I'm never having a baby type of gal, but sometimes it feels that way. I'm not on track for any type of fertility treatment, so the longer we go at this  - and the older I get - the less likely I feel our chances our.

Now, my 2ww consists of hoping my period shows on a weekend or my work from home day so I can be miserable in private and thinking about when my period will start so I can ignore any weight gain and wear the appropriate clothes to mask my bloating. Gone are the days of  thinking about what day I might test or even looking ahead to the next cycle.

And with each cycle, the older I get. And I think about it. A lot.

I've never been the type of person to think about or care about my age. I've never felt old (and I realize I'm relatively young to ever feel old, but some people do). Turning 25 was fine. I had no issues turning 30. But, as 34 looms ahead in two short months, I'm really feeling the weight of it all.

All you ever hear about when it comes to age and fertility is that bit 35 cutoff for AMA. And even though  my egg reserve and 33 and few months was good, that could very easily drop rapidly in 14 months. And I worry about getting pregnant any time after the next six months for fear of pregnancy after the AMA cutoff - that means amnios and all sorts of other risks. That's scary.

And the other side of that is just feeling so out of place at my age. I get on Facebook and people I went to school with have kids in middle school - I think one even has a high schooler. And almost all the others have school-age kiddos and/or toddlers. It makes me sad for me to see pictures. It hit me the other day looking at pictures of a guy I went to school with and his newborn baby and older son. He looked so "old". And he's my age. And I realized it was that he was grown up. And in some ways, I feel like I'm not. And that doesn't even make any sense, but I feel like all of these people who are my age are so much older than me because they are parents and they are at that stage of life. I feel so far behind but then it makes me realize my age and makes me feel old - too old for all this.

Two years ago, when this all started, my face broke out so horribly from day one and I gained 15-20 pounds in less than month. And I thought, it's okay. Eventually my body will adjust, I thought, and, if not, pregnancy will just cause all this anyway, so it's okay. I can muddle through.

Two years later, I'm just frustrated and unhappy. I'm tired of hormones ruling my appearance. Yes, I could probably do more about my weight, but even when I try, it seems, nothing changes. And there is nothing I can do about my acne. I'm tired of being 33-years-old and feeling like I want to hide myself. I feel so confident about so many things, but my appearance just takes that all away.

Confidence is something else I have lost. I feel like a failure at everything. I feel like I cannot do anything right - work, house, money, my Stella & Dot venture, being a wife. That's what IF has done to me.

And I'm just so tired of IF and wanting a family taking over my life.

I want to go to the State Fair with my husband and not wonder what it would be like to go with a baby next year since we want to make it an annual thing, but then be sad that it probably won't be an issue next year.

I want to look at a car and not wonder how well a car seat would fit in the back and how much cargo space there is for baby/kid stuff. And then be sad that I shouldn't really be considering that.

I want to see the box with my Christmas tree and get excited that it's almost time to decorate for Christmas - but not think that I don't know if I can handle another Christmas without a baby or pregnancy.

I want my life back. Of course, I don't want my old life back. I want the rest of my life to start.


I hate myself for thinking that way because I have husband who loves me, I have awesome dogs, I have a wonderful family, I have a job I actually still like most days, and I have good friends.

But, I don't know how that will ever be enough.

That's Right, This Is My Life

I was looking for a post on my Facebook profile.

I was looking at the list of things I've "liked" or commented on.

In this order:

"Congraulations" on Erin Ross's status. It was her baby's birth announcement, a mere hours after birth.
Ashley likes None in the Oven.

Yep, that's my life. Congratulating others on their babies and facing my own inability to get pregnant.

For the record, it made me giggle.

How I Survived a Baby Shower

I had been so prepared for my cousin's baby shower.

I had decided to try my hand at making some baby blankets. I was going to go in there with no baggage. I was ready.

Until we found out about the shower four days before it was to take place, on CD4 of my cycle, two years into to TTC.

I was not prepared. I thought I'd have time to gear myself up for it, get my happy face ready.

I didn't have time to attempt a blanket, which was fine for the shower because my grandmother and mom wanted to go in on a gift for her. Oh, good, I can handle that.

Oh, wait, you need me to look at the registry, Mom, because I'm "good at that stuff." Shit.

And two days later, you need me to walk you through looking it up? Sure, why not?

By three days out, I was having major anxiety and threatening to have a drink. The shower was to be at 2pm. That's okay, right?

I don't remember the last time I so fiercely did not want to attend an event. It wasn't just that it was a baby shower. Okay, yeah, it was. But there were other things. I cannot stand that other side of my cousin's family, particularly, her other grandmother. I was having awful flashbacks to my cousin's ridiculous wedding shower.

I DID.NOT.WANT.TO.GO.

By Saturday, I was having anxiety over clothes. I've not been feeling good about myself, so there was that obstacle. And I'm just thinking if I have to go to this damn thing, can't I at least look really good? Then maybe I'll feel better about myself and if anybody questions me and my babymaking, I'll be able to handle it with grace.

Oh, did I mention that my cousin is on bedrest 5 hours away and couldn't make the shower? So, how does that work?

Fortunately for me, my mom and grandmother were not keen on attending this thing either. While we adore my cousin, we all dislike being around that other part of the family. So, we were going for strength in numbers.

Come Sunday, I had picked out an outfit and actually liked how I looked. Shocker.

I cleaned the entire house to let off some steam, went grocery shopping. Still trying to figure out how to manage some alcohol before this thing. Then, The Hubby asked for coffee. The Hubby has been on a very strict cleanse/diet and has not had coffee in months. I haven't had coffee on a regular basis in two years. But,  when he mentioned making coffee, lighbulb! Irish cream!!

Made myself my yummy coffee that the hubby doesn't like, added my Irish cream, and headed out to get my mom. I'll give her credit here - she said she'd drive when I told her what was in my cup (I only had a short drive to her house; not driving while drinking). So, Irish cream = edge off attending shower.

At the shower, my poor cousin was being skyped in, but I still wondered what do you do at a baby shower when the mommy-to-be isn't in attendance? Apparently, you have a teen and a pre-teen open the gifts while grandma-to-be attempts to write down gifts. But, what happens when grandma-to-be is having hot flashes and not paying enough attention? That's right, the infertile, but always helpful cousin steps in to write.

Awesome.

Although, it was the lesser of two evils. When we first sat down, I was in prime postion to be asked to open the gifts and I was having a slight panic attack at the thought of that.

Writing wasn't much better. Can I tell you how much fun it was to explain baby items to the room full of women? Then to hear my mother say over and over that I was "used to" this whole baby shower thing. Yes, Mom, let's continue to point out the number of baby showers I've attended, none of which have been my own.

Oh, and let's not forget the little comment in the car, Mom. You know, about the annoying woman who "clearly doesn't have kids and never had." Um, you know you just described me, right?

Luckily we were in and out in about an hour, but I definitely had to fight back tears a couple of times.

I do really wish my cousin had been there. How awful to have to miss your own baby shower.

As she's already having some premature labor, she'll probably be having the baby within then next week or so (she's about 34 weeks right now). So, that will make a running total of 11 babies born to people I am in regular contact with while I've been trying and at least a dozen more babies/pregnancie via Facebook people from my past.

I promise I'm only a little bitter.

Really.

Six-Month Blues

I think I've discovered something of a pattern. It seems to me that every six month into this damned process, I hit this insurmountable depression.

(Note: It makes me more depressed to think that there have been enough six-month marks to notice a pattern.)

The end of this past cycle was just really hard. Stay in bed, want to cry all day hard.

The end of this past cycle was also the two-year mark.

Same thing happened six months ago - at 18 months, just as I was getting set to start testing.

And a year ago.

And at the six month mark. I remember nearly having a breakdown in the mall after going to the restroom and discovering that, once again, I was not pregnant. (Oh, how I wish I could have smacked my naive self for that one. Six months? Really? In my defense, in addition to it being the six-month mark, The Hubby had just gotten out of the hospital with a life-threatening condition and one of my best friends was less than a month away from giving birth - and there were four other impending births coming up in those next six weeks. But, still. I'd tell that girl now to get a grip.)

I guess milestones are supposed to hit harder, but I really hate feeling this way. I hate the hopelessness. I hate that nothing makes me happy. It's not fair to everybody and everything else in my life that I feel this way. But, I can't help the way I feel.

I pray that six months from now this will not be happening again, but at the same time, I have no reason to hope it won't.

Hey, Let's Ask the Infertile!

My cousin's baby shower is going to be Sunday. We just found out today (long story).

So, I have next to know time to mentally prepare myself.

Then, my mom and grandmother want to go in on a gift. Sure, I can do that.

Then, my mom tells me my she and grandmother are having trouble figuring out the registy to figure out what is left to get. Could I do it? I'm good at reading those.

Yeah, sure thing. The let the infertile grandaughter look up the baby registry for her younger cousin who got pregnant in two minutes and is now providing the first great-grandchild.

Yep, I'm on it. 'Cause, you know, I am an expert.

I've certainly bought my share.

What's one more, right?

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A Funny

I was lurking on the TTGP this morning (I'm just not up to posting on the boards anymore, but I still lurk from time to time to keep up with anybody I still know on the boards) and came across this link: http://www.noneintheoven.com/.

The gal who shared said her sister has been trying for 3 years and is also an actress who wrote and is starring in this series about trying to get pregnant.

Only the first episode is currently available, but the next should be soon. If the rest of the episodes are like this one, they will be a treat. Struggling to get pregnant is not a funny subject, but sometimes all you can do is laugh - at things like the advice you get from all the fertiles in your life, which is covered in the first episode. Also covered is the awfulness of the HPT. The waiting, the seeing, the trying to pretend you're not crushed.

It's so strange to get "excited" about little things like this. But, I do. It just makes me feel less pathetic to have other people in my shoes. To see other people sharing their story, getting the struggles out there.

I can't wait for the next five episodes!

Reason # 5,261 That I Chart

And that charting through the cycle can be beneficial.

CD28, 14DPO. Mild, inconsistent cramping. Irritability. No sore boobs. One incident of minor spotting at 13DPO and nothing else.

Hmm. Maybe I should stop on the way home for a test, right?

Uh-uh. Not a chance in hell.

But, why?

Thank you, body, for at least doing one thing right. A huge temp drop at 13DPO followed by a 0.05 rise (still to right at coverline) at 14PDO is much more telling than any symptoms or lack thereof. If not for that, I'd certainly be wasting more money.

Of course, I would be lying if I didn't say there wasn't a glimmer of hope. There always is, but I'm at least very logical this time in knowing what my body is telling me. And our timing was not good. At all. So, there was never any real hope, but under the circumstance, I was never going to be disappointed with this cycle.

And, with all that said, I'm going to the bathroom again.

Nothing like putting out there in the blog that my period hasn't started to make it show! Works every time!